


Deprivation

by Macx



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip needs a break from work. Badly. Badly enough for Archer to employ Malcolm's help in getting his chief engineer to finally catch some shut-eye</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deprivation

 

A soft hum permeated the air. It was ever-present, deep, resounding, never too obvious though, and part of his life. It was his pulse, every beat of his heart. It was his first and last thought on duty, it was his secret security blanket at night. It was the life of this artificial world around him, the heart of a lady he cared for deeply, and it was finally beating strongly again.  
Trip Tucker walked along the banks of monitors and display units in the engine room, visually checking every single one, adjusting what needed adjustment. Sitting dominantly in the room was the warp core, the central part of Enterprise, the piece that made her what she was: Starfleet's pride and joy. The warp 5 engine. His baby; his worry. And lately, the sole purpose of his existence.  
He had forgotten lunch completely -- again -- and now he was hungry, but he wanted to finish what he was currently doing. He briefly wondered whether he had had breakfast or not, but he couldn't remember. Probably not.  
The days had been hell. After the warp engines had received some serious damage, the engineering crew had been running around the decks with a fierce single-mindedness. Enterprise had flown straight into what had been a minefield. According to T'Pol, it had been ancient, probably the remains of an even older war, but the mines had functioned -- and they had wreaked havoc with the ship. It was essential that they got the warp drive back up and running, so double shifts were nothing out of the ordinary. Among the men and women, Trip was an often-seen participant in repairs and general checks. He caught brief intervals of sleep, sometimes a meal or some coffee. He was ever-present. The danger of being caught with their engines down was too great. Some systems were back after a day, but the warp drive was still flashing errors into their face.  
Tactical was the same mess as the engine, so Trip often worked side-by-side with a harried and exhausted looking Malcolm Reed, who was as tight-lipped and strained as the rest of them. Malcolm had received light burns on his hands and lower arms when his station had blown up in his face. In the last twenty-fours though, he had seen neither heads no tails of him. After a grueling thirty-six hours, the warp engines went back online for more than brief spurts, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, most of all the engineers.  
"Commander?"  
"Hm?" He looked up and found Travis Mayweather standing almost right next to him.  
"I asked if you wanted to come to the Mess Hall with us and grab something to eat," Mayweather repeated.  
"Uh, no. I want to finish the checks first. Thanks."  
"You might want to take a little break and eat, sir." Travis gave him an almost critical look.  
Trip grimaced. "I don't have the time."  
"Sir, I beg your pardon, but you look like hell and you haven't been seen in or around the mess hall for ages, not to mention anywhere else."  
Tucker sighed. "The rigors of rank," he quipped, dredging up a smile.  
Mayweather shook his head. "Okay, suit yourself, but it won't help if you collapse from exhaustion, sir." Then he left.  
Trip leaned against his engine, briefly closing his eyes. He felt a wave of dizziness pass through him. He needed to sleep, but there was so much more work to do.

* * *

Trip had really fallen asleep throughout his work. When he woke, his head resting in an uncomfortable position on the table of the engineers' tiny mess hall, it was close to midnight. His PADD was still switched on and next to him, but he hadn't finished his report yet. Cursing himself for sleeping so long he got up. He ordered a large cup of coffee from the dispenser and walked back into the engine room - right into Captain Jonathan Archer.  
"Hello, Trip. You look dreadful."  
Tucker grimaced. Just who he had been looking for. "Captain."  
Despite the brief rest, he was still feeling tired.  
"How's work proceeding?" Archer asked conversationally.  
"Pretty good." Trip stirred his coffee, debating whether to have something to eat or not. He settled on not. "The last checks came out with almost perfect scores, so it shouldn't be too hard to get the last glitches fixed. Enterprise will be back to her old self by tomorrow."  
Archer nodded, then his all-too knowing eyes rested on his chief engineer again. "You need rest."  
"Oh, please!"  
"What day is today?"  
The question startled him. "Huh?"  
"You heard me," Archer said. "What day is today?"  
Trip wrinkled his forehead in a frown. "Uhm...." To be completely honest, he had no idea at all. He hadn't had much time to look at a calendar -- or a watch -- lately.  
"And when did you last have a normal day, consisting of breakfast, lunch, dinner and a good night's sleep?" his friend went on.  
"Uhm, I had all of it.... some time."  
The critical expression stayed, the captain not the least bit convinced. "You call coffee food?" Archer raised an eyebrow. "You are working too hard, Trip. You've been pulling shift after shift."  
"This is important."  
"I know it is, but you've been working like a mad man to get all systems up, even though you had help, and now you are burying yourself in new work. Get something to eat. Go to your quarters, Trip. Sleep. That's an order."  
"But..."  
"They won't fall into total disorganization without you."  
"Captain...."  
Archer just gave him that Look. Trip knew it well. He sighed in resignation.  
"Okay, okay... just let me check...."  
"Commander...." Archer put a lot of warning into his voice.  
"Sheesh!" He put down the coffee and turned. "I'm going, I'm going!"  
Archer smiled. "Good."  
A rumble from his stomach informed the commander that food might not be so bad after all. Oh well... then food it was.

*

Jonathan Archer watched his best friend walk out of engineering, nearly colliding with the door as he barely managed to remind himself to open it before walking through. He shook his head. His senior staff was dedicated, and he knew Trip had done more than was humanly possible for the ship, but he needed sleep.  
Walking out of the engine room he found himself suddenly close to Malcolm Reed's quarters. The lieutenant had gone off duty about two hours ago and he had looked a bit tired, too, but Archer knew that the armory officer hadn't gone for more than two shifts today. He was still realigning the targeting grid and sensors, but he was almost done. And Malcolm had learned the secret of delegating work, the captain mused with a faint smile. Something Trip still had to learn.  
On an impulse, he pushed the button that announced a visitor.  
"Come," someone called and the door opened.  
Malcolm shot him a look of surprise when Archer entered. He was already out of uniform and had apparently decided to catch up on some reading, if the novel on the bed was any indicator.  
"At ease," Archer said as the younger man rose. "This isn't an official matter."  
"What can I do for you, Sir?"  
"A lot, actually." He smiled. "It's about Trip."  
Malcolm frowned slightly. "Something wrong?"  
"You could say that."  
The frown took on a worried quality and Archer bit back a chuckle. He knew about the relationship between the two men; the quite intimate and personal relationship. As he had told them, he didn't care what his officers did off duty as long as it didn't influence their performance. So far, nearly eight months into the men's relationship, everything had gone smoothly. Archer hadn't seen a single sign of Reed using his closeness to his superior for personal gains, and both men were working as efficiently as always. Smoother, even. The verbal fights were still there, each arguing his case and for his department, but the edge was gone.  
"I caught Trip nearly walking into a closed door with his eyes open, Malcolm. He's been on shift after shift since the run-in with the mine field and I had to order him to get off duty and eat something just now."  
Reed nodded slowly. "I know. He has been... stubborn lately."  
"So I noticed. Trip being stubborn is nothing new for me." Jon smiled. "But he's destroying himself and I can't use a chief engineer who ends up flat on his face due to physical and mental exhaustion. I'd like you to... well... take care of him." Archer shrugged briefly.  
"Sir?"  
"He listens to you a whole lot more in that matter, Malcolm. I can pull rank, but you can get him to unwind, get the sleep he needs. I don't want to see Commander Tucker anywhere on the bridge or in the engine room within the next twenty-four hours." Archer raised his eyebrows. "I believe you understand me?"  
"Perfectly, Captain." Reed smiled slowly. "I think I can manage that. Even if I have to tie him to the bed."  
Jon laughed. "I really don't want to know."  
Mischief danced in the gray-blue eyes for a second and Archer felt a brief wave of gratefulness. Trip's influence had brought out the lighter side in his armory officer, had made him open up to the world. Reed had been so intense, so focused on his job and nothing else, it had made him an excellent Tac officer but his people skills had been mediocre at best. He had changed a lot, subtly but still a lot, and Archer knew it had been thanks to his relationship with the engineer.  
"Yes, sir," Malcolm now only said.  
"Well, good luck."  
With that the captain left the quarters, relieved to have that matter taken care of.

* * *

Trip walked tiredly toward the mess hall, nodding at people he met in the corridors, without even realizing who they were. He knew their faces, but names evaded him. As he entered the mess hall, the hum of the conversation washed over him, making him dizzy again. He was on automatic as he ordered a coffee, additionally a soda, and then got himself a sandwich. Turning, he discovered that a lot of seats were taken and somehow something informed him that if he sat down, he might just not get up again. And he would very likely end up face first in his sandwich.  
Okay, his quarters. He had had his meals there before and it wasn't all that far.  
Trip had no recollection of getting there at all. Suddenly he was keying in his personal entry code and the doors slid open. He placed the food and drink on the table and undid the zipper of his uniform, peeling out of the upper part. He unceremoniously bound the sleeves around his waist, then scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes.  
Food, his overtaxed brain informed him. Food, bed.  
The door chime let him groan softly. Who could that be? Had something blown again? If yes, why hadn't they paged him through the intercom?  
"Come in," he called, trying to sound more awake than he actually was.  
His visitor wasn't the harbinger of catastrophe news. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed let the door close after him and shot the engineer a critical look.  
"You look like something the cat dragged in... after it died out in the rain," the Brit commented wryly as he let his eyes rake over his lover.  
"Why thank you, Mr. Reed, that's just what I needed," Tucker drawled, grimacing.  
Malcolm chuckled. "I won't hedge any bets as to how much you actually slept since the last crisis. I'd lose." He walked over to the table and inspected the food and drink. "You aren't planning on having coffee, now are you?"  
"What's wrong with a coffee?"  
"In your condition? Just about everything." Malcolm shook his head. "Water would be better. You need to sleep."  
Trip sighed. "Tell me somethin' I don't know."  
Reed went over to him and slipped an arm around the slender waist. Trip sighed and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, reveling in the feeling of the warm body he had missed a lot lately. Malcolm had been busy in his own department, but unlike the commander. There was a faint shadow of a beard visible on the naturally pale features, but Trip knew his stubble was much more prominent. His hair was tousled, his uniform wrinkled; he really did look like hell. Malcolm had actually slept between shifts; it had done wonders.  
A feathery kiss was bestowed on his lips, then Reed moved behind him, hands resting on the tight shoulders. His lover started to carefully knead the tense muscles and Trip groaned. He leaned into the warmth, eyes sliding shut. Tucker started to sway slightly and Malcolm's grip tightened. He had the feeling as if the ground beneath him was suddenly gone. Eyes snapped open and he held onto the chair as he nearly collapsed. Sleep deprivation, he realized.  
"Whoa," Trip murmured, trying to stop the world from tilting.  
"You are dead on your feet!" Malcolm muttered.  
"I'm fine..." Shaking his head, the commander straightened, pushing away from the support, only to nearly fall. He gritted his teeth, furiously blinking his eyes.  
"Right!" The armory officer snorted. "I know your 'fine'."  
"Look who's talking," Trip shot back, briefly roused by the small argument. "You were the one who proclaimed he was 'all right' after he was shot in the leg!"  
"That was different," Reed grumbled.  
"Uh-huh...."  
Malcolm gently pushed the other man to the bed and started to undo the knot in the sleeves to undress him. "It was. Now shut up."  
"Hope you're not plannin' somethin' for tonight," Trip mumbled.  
"All I'm planning, commander, is for you to sleep. Eight hours straight. More, if you need it."  
"Ah'm back on duty soon," Trip drawled, his accent thickening.  
"You want me to call the captain and confirm that?"  
He rolled his eyes. Or at least he thought he did. Trip wasn't sure his muscles obeyed his commands any longer. A yawn threatened.  
"There are very capable people down in engineering, perfectly able to take care of Enterprise until you have recovered from playing super-engineer."  
Trip stumbled out of the uniform and Malcolm steadied him as he effectively stripped him down to his underwear. Then pushed the unresisting man onto the bed.  
"You aren't needed for now. If there is an emergency, they'll call, rest assured."  
"Com might not work."  
"Bloody stubborn Yank!" Reed muttered.  
"Mother-henning Brit," Trip shot back, no fire in his voice. He was too tired.  
The blond fell heavily back onto the mattress, his body feeling heavy and uncooperative.  
"Stay with me?" he mumbled.  
Malcolm smiled. "I thought you weren't up to anything," he teased.  
"Ha-ha." Trip forced heavy lids open. "Please, Mal? Want you here. Been too long."  
Malcolm's smile widened and he undressed as well, then crawled in. He kissed his exhausted lover, their tongues touching briefly. Reed had no intentions to arouse him, and he doubted Trip would even last long enough. Tucker smiled as he took him into his arms.  
“Y’know, been suffering from Reed deprivation,” he murmured sleepily. “Might be coming down with something even worse….”  
“That can be fixed.” Malcolm softly kissed his head as he snuggled close. "Sleep," he advised. “I’ll be here.”  
And Trip did just that. Feeling safe, warm and content, he let the world slip away and sleep claim him.


End file.
